The big news for Scott Morrison and his military sidekick, Lieutenant General Angus Campbell, at Friday’s Operation Sovereign Borders press briefing was the arrival of the monsoon.

The two would say nothing about reports that Indonesia is emptying its refugee camps; nothing about the Australian navy apparently withdrawing from waters north of Christmas Island; and little about yet another series of damning reports from the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees.

The dozen or so journalists who had managed to scramble to the press conference were treated instead to grim warnings from both about the hazards of the monsoon and a little slideshow of boats with useful captions: “A crowded vessel listing in large swells.”

You doubt Campbell will look back on this operation with pride. As Morrison blathered on about the failings of Labor, the general stood resolutely still. He licked his lips. He sniffed. He held what seemed a steady focus on the exit sign above our heads.

Then his turn came and he had nothing to say that Morrison could not have said. Nothing. He announced this week’s modest arrival figures – “nine illegal maritime arrivals and two crew from one suspect illegal entry vessel” – and the dangers of the looming monsoon. He refused to say anything about military operations or other “on-water matters”.

Campbell’s function at these encounters is to give military authority to a political determination to keep the operation against the boats as secret as possible. Poor bastard: he’s a stage prop.

Half an hour’s notice was given of the city and time of Friday’s press conference. That’s how Morrison operates: everything except the day of the week is a mystery until the last minute. Were we at war with Indonesia the drama and secrecy might make sense.

Journalists assume Morrison is simply trying to shelter from the Canberra press gallery and the heavyweights of television current affairs. “That’s rubbish,” he declared when Guardian Australia raised the point. That there was even less notice than usual this time he put down to the rush of events: “There is quite a lot on today.”

Morrison is more polite than he was in the early weeks of Operation Sovereign Borders. Complaints of arrogance appear to have been heeded. Perhaps he is also growing more secure in the business of stonewalling.

Indeed, he’s almost soothing. Colourlessness is becoming his camouflage. Morrison is as grey as Philip Ruddock, his great predecessor in the cruel business of stopping the boats.

He projected at the microphone in that flag-draped room a weary understanding that the press will keep on asking these questions until they get the message and, maybe, find something else to write about.

His blocking is dogged rather than clever: in these “sensitive times” he will not give “details of operations” or “comment” or “speculate” on reports or say anything that will not “assist” the success of this “very challenging process”. So he says virtually nothing.

Guardian Australia asked Morrison once again to identify the law refugees are supposed to be breaking by coming to Australia by boat. If they are here illegally why no prosecutions?

Morrison hazarded a guess that it was section 4 of the Migration Act. No, minister, that sets out the general objectives of Australia’s visa regime and doesn’t use the tainted language of illegality.

He was generous with his time. He usually rations his dealings with the press to 30 minutes a week. But he gave us a few minutes more before disappearing down the glass shafts of the snazzy new building in Sydney to which federal politicians have recently removed themselves.

Next week it will all not happen again. This might be a government which, according to the attorney general, George Brandis, has freedom of speech at its heart. But the right to know, it seems, is something else.